Page 19 of Madness

The rich aroma of warm, cooked meats greeted us pleasantly as we stepped in. Several tables glistened from a fresh wash and the others were full of enough patrons to tell me that this place had been worth the stop. Behind a rusting bar top, a short Fae with shoulder-length red hair gave us a small wave. Youth still blessed her unblemished and glowing skin. The contrast of adulthood had yet to sharpen her features. I had to do a doubletake. Was this Fae even old enough to be working behind a bar? She looked like she was only ten years old.

The chains rustled between me and Red as I approached the counter. A few lingering eyes stopped to stare at Red, who stared right back at them until they eventually looked away.

“Excuse me, miss, can I speak to your mother?” I glanced back and forth behind the bar, waiting for someone who wasn’t a child to serve me.

The red-haired child rolled her eyes. “This is my bar. How can I help you?”

“Cut the crap,” I shot back with a look of disbelief.

“I’m nearing my eightieth birthday. My stilling happened when I was twelve. So you can either quit staring at me like I’m a fucking attraction in a traveling circus and order, or you can turn around and quit wasting my time.”

My mouth dropped open. Red chuckled behind me. I gave her a hard yank, making her stumble to shut her up.

“I need two orders of steak with whatever vegetables you have handy and, uh, what do you recommend to drink?”

The girl pointed down to the yellow ale most of the men were drinking at the bar. “I reckon that’s good enough. Most popular drink on the menu.”

My head felt dizzy and my stomach churned at the thought of another night drinking that terrible brew ever again. “No. No. I’ve found that I don’t enjoy that. It’s bitter.” I scrunched up my nose.

“Hmmm.” She nodded, her eyes dancing over me. “You know what, take a seat. I think I know what to get ya.”

“Would you look at that?” I turned around, giving Red a big fake smile, I knew wasn’t reaching my eyes. “Lady can read minds. Why don’t we go find a seat and see what she brings us?”

Red didn’t respond. I didn’t expect her to, but she did openly glare as she kicked her chains in front of her. There were plenty of seats to choose from between the already filled tables. Booths under large lamps that left little room for hiding. A thought that made me both thankful and nervous.

“Here.” I pointed to the wooden seat.

The scent of pine cleaner lingered on the smooth tabletop mingling with the smell of warm bread that sat waiting for the dinner rush. I eased into the seat across from Red and let the long chain drape between us on the table.

“Do you wonder why you don’t see any Nymphs here?” Red pushed her chin forward to indicate the rest of the room.

“Because people don’t normally take slaves out to dinner?”

I flicked the layer of material that kept the flies from the food away and plucked a roll from the basket. Warm, soft, and buttery, the bread made me excited for the rest of the meal.

“But don’t they make them carry their shopping bags?”

I followed her gaze to a couple who chatted away while they picked at their meals, bags from their evening shopping sitting near their feet.

“Don’t they make Nymphs watch their horses or work in their kitchens, or hold their fucking umbrellas to shield their precious fucking faces from the sun?” she snarled quietly through clenched teeth, like I just wasn't getting something. “I didn’t see any outside either. How am I the only one?”

She was right. There hadn’t been any outside assisting their masters. From what I could see around the half swinging doors to the kitchen, it was all Fae working back there too. There wasn’t time to question it further before the owner swept back through holding two pink drinks.

“One for each of you. Your food will be out in a minute. Why don’t you give it a sip and tell me what you think? I can bring you something else if it doesn’t please you. But I think it will.”

I examined the fat cup with the long stem. Pink liquid with a dark to light gradient, and something floating in a layer along the top, with bubbles that didn’t seem to pop. I sniffed it, pleasantly surprised by the fruity smell.

“What’s in the layer at the top?” I asked. Intrigued, I swirled the liquid in the cup.

“Candy,” she smiled, slipping her hands into the apron pockets.

Red's bored gaze traveled between me and the cup. I lifted my drink toward Red in salute and brought it to my lips. Creamy, carbonated liquid, flavored like a strawberry pie slipped past my lips and filled my mouth. I swished it around taking in the flavor. This was beyond better than that nasty yellow ale the men seemed to enjoy. I swallowed gulp after gulp until the cup was empty.

There hadn’t even been time for sweat to form a ring on the table before I was setting it back down, empty. Honestly, I assumed by the freshness of its taste that it lacked what caused that terrible feeling I had the next day.

“I’ll take another.” I glanced at Red. “Drink up.”

“Excuse me, before you go, can you tell me why I don’t see any Nymphs around these parts?”

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